


The Night Belongs To Us

by Nevanna



Category: Angel: the Series, Jekyll (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 03:20:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1250824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevanna/pseuds/Nevanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Always looking for something new and different, Hyde makes a new friend with warnings and promises of the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night Belongs To Us

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on 8/7/11. **Warning** for sexual references and violent imagery.

Hyde caught the sound and scent of her before he saw her, sitting by herself in a corner booth. She just laughed when he offered her a drink, and by the time he’s finished his second – no, third, or maybe fourth – glass, she’s singing to herself: “Four little ducks went out to play, over the hills and far away.” Her hair is loose and dark, and her skin practically glows. “What were you doing when the world ended?”

“Doesn’t look very ended to me.”

“Still on its way out, then…” She shakes her head. “They might kill the beasties and cage the storm, but the little toy soldiers will keep striking out at each other. They’ll use themselves up.” She seems to have just realized that he’s there. “Where will you be?”

“Listen, love, this is all very interesting, but I was hoping to get a bit of fun in before then.” Hyde flashes her a smile. “Fancy going someplace a bit quieter? Or will the nearest empty wall suit you? I’m not fussy.”

“The boys used to court me with pretty flowers and spun-sugar words.” She could be accusing him or praising him.

“Not my style. Got places to go, bones to crush.”

Her face lights up, and she claps her hands. “Can I come?”

“That’s a promise. Twice, maybe three times, if you say ‘pretty please’.”

“You’re going out hunting, and you’re not inviting me along?” She clicks her tongue. “Somebody should box your ears.” He thought he was the only one who could move that fast, but there she is beside him. “If you say ‘pretty pretty please’,” she murmurs, “then I’ll let you have the first kill.”

“Right then.” He’s hard by the time the points of her teeth finish tracing the edge of his ear. “No killing, though,” he manages. “Daddy’s rules.” This close, there’s an unfamiliar fizz to her blood like bubbles in champagne, and – he doesn’t know much about the world, but he’s pretty sure this isn’t usual – a silence beneath her velvet dress where her heartbeat should be. 

\--

Drusilla - for that's what she calls herself - beckoned the boy outside into the alley with a wink and a crook of her long, white finger. He’s wearing even more velvet and leather than she is. Her features shift and bubble like candle wax, and she rips the studded collar from the boy’s neck and pierces it with her fangs. He’s already all screamed out. Before she drops him to the ground in a heap, their broken toy, she lifts her mouth long enough to croon, “Do you want a taste?”

Hyde will try anything once, but human blood has never been his drink of choice. He prefers whiskey, or chocolate milk, or, now, the taste of Drusilla’s mouth as he crushes her lips with his own. The blood has warmed her skin, for now. “What are you?” he asks, between bruising kisses. “Not alive, not dead –“ She’s different to any of the women he’s fucked before, and different to another pretty dark-haired girl, one he can’t have, can’t touch, can’t seem to bloody _forget_. That’s all right, though; most times, different is good.

“You’re not like me, are you?” she whispers.

If he could, he might rip her open to find out why her heart doesn’t beat, but instead, he just lifts and presses her against the ashy bricks. “I’m not like anybody.”

\--

“Can you hear the stars?” Drusilla asks later. What remains of her dress is currently pooled on the stained purple-brown motel carpet. “I have to listen even harder now. There wasn’t always so much smog and muck in the way.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

She stretches. “You’ve been sleeping for so long.” 

“Too long,” Hyde agrees. “Got a lot of catching up to do, me.”

“Your daddy is very strict, isn’t he? You can’t stay tied to him forever. I didn’t.” She makes little snipping motions with her hands. “Cut the strings.”

He leans forward to nip on her fingers. “If I had the chance to be rid of him now, I’d take it. But if I’m right, he’ll be gone soon enough. I can feel it.”

“My Angel, the one who made me, and my sweet William, they lived and died and lived again, and they took their filthy souls onto the street to slay the dragon. And Grand-mummy’s all gone to dust. ‘Only one little duck came back.’” Drusilla traces her long nails gently, gently, over the scratches that she left in his back and shoulders. “All those heroics, all that let’s-pretend, just for the nasty little monkeys who are too busy scorching their world and eating their young. When they’re all done, we’ll be what’s left.”

Usually, afterward, Hyde is all hot to move on to the next pub, the next girl, the next new thing to taste or hear or feel or tear apart. Right now, he’s willing to stay where he is, sprawled across the rumpled sheets with the night pouring in the windows and her skin cool against his, until the lights start to flicker and the twitching starts and it’s time to sleep again.

\--

A single recorded message from his other half is waiting for him the next evening. It’s not a happy message, but then, Tom Jackman is never happy about anything. If he was one of the Seven Dwarves, he’d be Stuffy or Gloomy or Bitchy. Sometimes he manages all three at once. “The victim’s name is Marvin Keyes. ‘Nocturne’ to his friends. He was found outside the Osiris Club at one o’clock this morning, beaten within an inch of his life. The doctors aren’t sure whether he’ll regain consciousness. Don’t even try to pretend you weren’t there!” A pause, and then the voice sounds a little calmer. “You’re stretching the rules to their limit. Remember that actions have consequences.” Another brief silence. “And I’m not even going to ask about the bite marks on his neck.”

At least he’s not banging on about how important it is to value human lives. Hyde licks his lips and presses Record. “Why so shirty, Daddy? Could it be because I’m getting some action and you’re not?” No need to ask that question; he already knows the answer. “I was a good little boy and left our gothy little friend alive. And I made a new friend of my own. Did you know that? She’s not your delicious little wife, but she scratches the itch. Tells the best bedtime stories in the world.” Drusilla might be at the club tonight, and she might not, but he’s feeling even luckier than usual. “Do you know where you’ll be when the world ends?”


End file.
